


Krushnic's Pizzeria

by ourcrashdownblue



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: 'The French Mistake' means there are no rules, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Food, Foodie Dean Winchester, Kinda, M/M, One Shot, Russian Misha Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: When Dean, Sam, and Jack roll into Boston for a case something catches Dean's eye: a Russian pizza place.  And the blue-eyed dude who owns the place catches Dean's eyes as well--but for a totally different reason.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Misha Collins' Face, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character, Kinda? More like...
Comments: 15
Kudos: 58





	Krushnic's Pizzeria

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or reserve any rights. This is pure, ridiculous fiction. Hope you enjoy!

“Dude, check it out,” Dean thumped his hand hard against Sam’s chest, startling his brother where he was dozing in the passenger seat, “Look, look, look.”

Sam shot Dean a sleepy glare before looking where Dean was pointing through the windshield of the Impala.

“Wha--? I don’t see anything,” Sam said around a yawn.

Dean flicked the windshield wipers’ toggle once more, splashing away the drizzle that had settled over the Boston suburb. They were stopped at a redlight not more than a block from the squat little restaurant that he was insistently pointing at. The words "Krushnic's Pizzeria" arced over the main in neon red and white letters. Dean was already looking at the restaurant’s parking lot turn-off, finger resting on the blinker, ready to flip it once they passed this intersection. They needed this, Dean reasoned. Their vamp case didn’t look like nothing too out of the ordinary--but then again, when did the monsters ever seem to give them a heads up when shit was about to get weird. They could use a little pre-hunt pick-me-up to get them off on the right start. And the promise of fun, new food never failed to get Dean’s motor going.

“ _ There _ ,” Dean grabbed Sam’s jaw and turned it slightly to the right until he felt Sam huff and twist out of his grasp.

“Come on, man, it’s just pizza,” Sam grumbled and let his head fall back into the makeshift pillow he’d balled his jacket into.

“ _ Russian _ pizza, Sammy,” Dean beamed, finally pulling ahead when the light turned green, “Come on, I’m sure they have some kinda frou-frou salad for ya.”

“Jesus,  _ fine _ ,” Sam muttered as he unrolled his jacket and stretched out as far as a man of his size could in the cramped space. Sam gave a low groan as a series of pops zipped up his spine.

In the back seat, Jack’s tousled hair slowly rose into view.

“Rise and shine, kid, it’s pizza time,” Dean chuckled as he glided Baby into a parking space. The lot was almost empty this late at night and he was more than a little grateful that they’d be able to get in and out without long lines

“Where are we?” Jack rubbed at his squinty eyes. The kid unrolled his own jacket and wrestled it onto his lithe frame.

“Just getting dinner, Jack,” Sam said, voice still rough from his brief nap.

Dean was already stepping out into the cool, humid air, pulling his collar a little closer to his neck. God there was something so depressing about the weather on the east coast. He slid his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the red bubble over his Messages icon. 

**Cas: Call me when you arrive at the motel.**

Dean ran a thumb over his lip and thought a moment before tapping out a reply.

**Dean: In Dorchester. Just stopping off for a bite then headed to the motel. Call when we get there.**

Dean pocketed his phone and took a second to look up at the overcast sky. Come to think of it, the light rain was actually kinda nice. 

***

Dean’s mouth watered the minute he flung the frosted glass door open. There were so many goddamn  _ beautiful  _ smells mixing in his head. Pesto, tomato sauce, pipin’ hot cheese, and...well, smells Dean couldn’t quite put a name to but wanted to stuff in his mouth immediately. The place was most definitely a little ma-and-pa venue with furniture and counters that looked like they’d been cycled in and out over the decades but still exuded a warmth that was always unique to family-run places. All in all, the place just looked...well-loved. Dean respected that.

It was quiet except for the gentle hum of kitchen appliances and kitchen staff talking in the back. Only two of the rust-red booths were taken, their occupants making low chatter that didn’t quite reach the hunter’s ears.

The three were directed by a sign with an arrow to a small counter with a cash register. Dean sidled up to the empty counter, Sam and Jack both hanging back to lean stiff joints against a concrete column just off to the side. Jack was heavily leaning on Sam’s shoulder, looking for all the world like he might just conk out in the middle of the restaurant.  _ Babies _ , Dean rolled his eyes.

He looked back to the wall right behind the counter. An old plastic sign with boxy letters spelled out the foods and their prices. While the pizza toppings were pretty standard, Dean’s brow furrowed in curiosity at a few of the appetizers and desserts he didn’t even try to pronounce in his head. Beside the menu, there was a small waist-high window that peered back into the nearly empty kitchen, small sheets of paper were clipped right above it and fluttered slightly from the vent right above. 

Dean’s ears perked up at the scuffling sound emitting from way back in the kitchen.

“Be right with you,” from somewhere in the depths of the kitchen a velvety, rich... _ familiar _ voice called out.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed even further because that guy’s voice made his brain itch. It sounded really fucking familiar but the stranger’s words had cut off before Dean could try to trace back through his memories. It was a nice voice, too, and whatever sensation it roused in the pit of Dean’s stomach only seemed like confirmation that, yeah, the hunter had definitely heard that smooth melody before.

Dean glanced back only to find both Sam and Jack’s eyes wandering lazily around the place, still mostly dead to the world. Dean scoffed.

His gaze shot back to the counter, however, when the heavy thud of shoes on tile got closer. The hunter saw a flash of a white apron and blue jeans crossing the kitchen only to disappear from view once again.

“Sorry for the wait, there’s only two of us on tonight…” that smooth voice began but suddenly Dean’s ears felt like they were filled with cotton.

Every muscle in Dean’s body froze. This...this didn’t make-- _what?_ _  
_ “Cas?”

Some weird, alternate universe Castiel stood before Dean, wiping still slightly sudsy hands on his white apron.

“Excuse me?”A wide, gummy smile Dean had never seen the angel wear suddenly bloomed on the man’s face. His brilliant blue eyes crinkled at the corners. Dean didn’t even know that Cas’s face could  _ do _ that, let alone make his own stomach do...well, whatever the hell it was doing right now,“What can I get for you?”

Dean didn’t-- _ couldn’t _ move. This Cas was decked out in a faded, grey AC/DC t-shirt that was tucked under the waist of his apron. Thick, olive forearms looked firm and taut in the restaurant’s light, the same light the gunmetal ring on his middle finger reflected. This...Cas screwing with him or something...right?

“Dude...what…?” Dean felt like he was maybe dying just a little because  _ what the fuck was happening?  _ He felt his mouth open and close with zero words falling out. Cas/Not Cas’s smile faded a little as his brow dipped in concern.

“Are you alright, man?”

Dean’s mouth felt dry and sticky all at once.

“C-Cas? Wha-what are you doing?”

“Uh, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,” a small smirk had replaced Cas/Not Cas’s beaming grin, it was accompanied by a slightly arched eyebrow that made Dean’s fingers twitch where they were white-knuckled on the countertop.

“ _ Holy shit… _ ” Sam hissed.

Dean’s head snapped back at his brother’s voice. Sam bolted upright, jostling Jack from where he’d been resting his eyes next to the taller Winchester. Sam was wide awake now, eyes like saucers as he looked Cas/Not Cas up and down. His gaze darted between Dean and the clone of their best friend, his own mouth gaping and warbling like Dean’s had.

“A-Are you guys okay?” Cas/Not Cas was tilting his head in that same inquisitive way Dean had seen probably a million times by now and his breath caught in his throat. Was this what an aneurysm felt like?

Dean was saved by Sam’s too-tight grip falling on his shoulder. Dean didn’t even look up at the touch, not when this tan, glowing carbon copy of Cas was standing right in fucking front of him.

“That’s not Cas…” Jack mumbled.

Dean wasn’t quite sure when the shorter angel had made his way up to the counter either, but going by the breathiness in his voice, he looked as gobsmacked as the brothers.

“Sammysammysammy--”

Dean grunted when Sam elbowed his ribs.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam swallowed thickly before turning glaring eyes back to the walking/talking Uncanny Valley standing behind the counter, “What the  _ fuck _ are you?” Sam growled.

It was (decidedly) Not Cas’s turn to look between the three men with wide eyes. He raised his hands in surrender and took a minute step back.

“I--What? Look I just work here, man,” Not Cas said, “Who’s Cas?” 

Dean had seen nearly every creepy, lurk-y thing under the sun, but this was different. Something wasn’t right. Not Cas was...the dude looked terrified. And not the-hunters-have-stumbled-upon-my-lair terrified but more like two-big-dudes-are-freaking-me-out terrified and suddenly an idea clicked in Dean’s brain. He slapped a hand up to Sam’s chest because his brother sorta looked like he was two seconds from hopping over the counter and beating a confession out of the guy. Once again the light from above them glinted off of Not Cas’s ring...and something else. Loosely pinned to the guy’s t-shirt was a name-tag.

“H-Hang on, Sammy,” Dean licked his lips and watched Not Cas’s shoulders slump a little at the movement, “So... _ Dmitri _ , your last name...it wouldn’t happen to be Novak, would it?”

Dean felt Sam let out a rough exhale when the pieces seemed to click for him too.

“Uh, n-no, but my mom’s maiden name was Novak,” Dmitri’s face started to morph from fright back to confusion at the question. His arms sagged back down to his sides when Dean shoved himself between Sam and the counter, “Why?”  
Dean looked over at Jack who was still staring like Dean really, really wanted to but a soft smile was creeping onto his face.

“You hear that, Jack,” Dean tried to force some ease back into his voice, “He’s related to Jimmy. And that’s  _ all _ .”

When Dean glanced back at Sam, his brother was now leaning back against the pillar again hands on his knees, eyes darting in space like he was still trying to assure himself that nope, not a monster, just the weirdest fucking coincidence ever. 

“You knew my cousin?” Dmitri was looking over Dean with careful eyes, gaze darting back at Sam every once in a while to keep him in his sights.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean spun Jack around, though the angel kept trying to look back over his shoulder at Dmitri, “Why don’t you take Sammy back out to the car, huh? I’ll get the food to go.”

Jack just nodded absently, eyes and goofy grin still set on Dmitri. Sam too kept his eyes glued to Jimmy’s cousin until the frosted doors fell closed behind them.

“Uh, sorry, my brother,” Dean cleared his throat and tried to round back into himself. Charm, that’s what’d get them through this without this dude calling the cops on them, “He’s had a long day...and you just, fuck, you look so much like  _ him _ .”

Dean leaned into the counter and looked up at Dmitri’s face, it was like looking at a mirror’s reflection of Cas. Like Dean knew everything and nothing about that face all at once.

“No, uh, harm no foul, I guess,” Dmitri said, eyes kept on the ring he twisted on his finger. The dude was fidgeting, and Dean had a hard time looking away because Cas so did  _ not _ fidget.

“Sorry, again, I know he’s a big guy but he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Dean chuckled and held out a hand from where his elbows rested on the countertop, “I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Wi--Sweet,” he quickly corrected, remembering at the last second that despite everything, they had just rolled into town for a case and it never hurt to stick to the names on their badges.

“Dmitri...Krushnic,”a little grin had made its way back onto the man’s face and Dean was having a hard time not staring. This was insanity, now that Not Cas couldn’t seem to make eye contact with Dean, the hunter couldn’t tear his gaze away. Was he... _ blushing _ ? It took half a minute for Dean to notice Dmitri’s last name, “'Krushnic', huh? So do you own the place?”

“Family business, but yeah, I run it now,” Dmitri smirked.

“Is that so?” Dean’s voice sounded rougher than before and he was just about ready to give up explaining all the weird shit that was going down and just roll with it.

The dark haired man’s hip leaned into the counter, too. When he met Dean’s eyes another flash of familiarity panged through him at the wry glint that played in Dmirti’s eyes now. Dmitri ran smooth, olive fingers through hair that was all mussed up just like Cas’s. Dean tracked the movement until the hand fell away, “So, Dean, haven’t seen you here before. What brings you to Dorchester?”

It was Dean’s turn to blush when Dmitri’s gaze raked over him.  _ Jesus H. Christ _ , what even was his life right now? This was even more disconcerting than when he’d met Apocalypse Cas who’d been so strung out and goddamn  _ flowy _ . But at least that Cas was actually, y’know,  _ Cas _ . This was...fuck, this was something else entirely and Dean wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to rein himself in as each second passed.

“Um, FBI,” Dean only slightly fumbled his badge out of his jacket pocket, thanking all the deities that he’d decided to grab it out of the trunk before they’d even left the bunker. He held up the badge and wanted to smack himself in the head when he had to quickly turn it right-side up, “Just, uh, in town for a few d-days...big case...case stuff...” Dean felt his own grin growing wider to match Dmitri’s.

“G-man, huh? Impressive,” Dmitri arched a brow slightly but his grin never fell, “Are you always on the road, then?” 

Dean clapped the badge closed again and quickly tucked it away before he started fidgeting with it.

“Most times, yeah,” Dean wasn’t really processing his words right now because Dmitri was giving him a downright  _ sultry _ smile and Dean felt like his brain might explode. 

“So where’s home then?” Dmitri had inched a little closer...or maybe Dean had? Dean was quickly losing his ability to think with his upstairs brain. Everything about this was so freakin’ weird, but for some reason, the utterly dream-like aspect of it was only serving to ratchet up the tension that hung low in Dean’s belly.

“Uh, Kaaansas,” Dean mumbled.

“You have family back in Kansas, Dean?” Dean watched Dmitri’s lips seem to drawl out his name. It sounded exactly like Cas said it but just...slower. Smoother, like Dmitri’s tongue caressed each letter as he said them, “Got a wife? Girlfriend, maybe?  _ Boy _ friend...?”

“Heh,” Dean was dying. That was the only explanation. He was probably bleeding out on some abandoned warehouse floor going through some kind of fever dream before Billie came to fetch him. And, honestly? Dean was kinda okay with that idea. Sure Dean had been given the eye before by more than one dude either involved in the case they were working or at a dive they stopped at for beers, but guys were hardly ever so direct. Unfortunately, whatever made him “pass” as straight in his day-to-day life had a way of making it incredibly difficult for him to get a dick up his ass when he really wanted it. 

His mouth felt tacky and he could feel, beyond a doubt, that his cheeks were hot. He had always wondered if..maybe...sorta...kinda...his Cas had been carrying a torch for the hunter for some years. And okay, maybesortakinda Dean felt a little something more than brotherly love for the angel...but that was beside the point. Cas was still such a rookie when it came to expressing human emotions, and while there’d been a handful of times that Dean was pretty positive that the angel had been flirting with him, there was just no telling when it came to Cas. And, if Dean had been mistaking and misreading things...well, no point fixing something that ain’t broke.

But  _ this _ , this situation was blurring all sorts of lines in Dean’s head. Was this wrong? Flirting with Cas’s doppelganger felt wrong. It’s not like Dean was gonna do anything with the guy anyway, but still. The deeper monkey brain in Dean had half a mind to screw right and wrong and let Dmitri make eyes at him all day long.

“You, uh--” Dean cleared his throat and let Dmitri’s sky-blue eyes stare into his soul in a way that was almost painfully familiar, “Nah, no girlfriend...or b-boyfriend. You?”

The hunter knew he was gonna berate himself for this later, not just because he was acting like an some awkward high schooler asking his crush to go the the prom with him, but mainly because he was  _ just fucking encouraging the flirting now _ .

“Nuh-uh,” Dmitri bit his lip and inched a little closer. The dark haired guy smelled like freshly chopped chives and lemongrass and Dean just wanted to eat him alive. Maybe this was just some djinn-induced wet dream, “Not a lotta cute guys in the neighborhood. But my odds are looking a lot better now.”

Dean nearly choked on his own spit and he knew that he was blushing like it was nobody’s business. If Dean was being honest with himself--though he rarely was--even if he’d never ever met Castiel, he couldn’t imagine a world that this pretty brunette wouldn’t’ve caught his eye.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Dmitri nodded with a pleased smirk.

“Always lay it on this, uh, thick with your customers, b-buddy?” Dean had been aiming for some kind of smugness, anything that’d let him take back the reins of this interaction but he was failing miserably.

“Well, we don’t get many customers like you,” Dmitri’s voice became a rich grumble when he chuckled, “Or like your brother for that matter.”

“Heh,” Dean wiped his sweat drenched palms on his jeans and shuffled in place. He’d come in here for a reason, dammit, and if he took too much longer Sam or Jack was bound to come back in looking for him, “Uh, so, never had Russian pizza before…”

Another belly deep chuckle left Dmitri and Dean was 1000% sure that he’d never ever heard Cas laugh like that.

“Well, our pizza isn’t so much Russian-inspired as our side dishes are. If you get the large pizza and sampler it comes with  _ rasstegai _ ,  _ sushki _ ,  _ pelmeni s gribami _ , and a big square of apricot  _ pirog _ so you can try a few different things. If you’ve never tried Russian food, that’s probably your best bet. I’ve also never met a person who didn’t love  _ olaydi _ \--they’re like these mini pancakes with honey on them--so that’s probably a pretty good gamble, too. Some of our other dishes are...an acquired taste. I hope you like mushrooms.”

“Hell yeah I like mushrooms--sauteed, they’re freakin’ delicious,” and just like that, Dean’s head was back in the game. He may not know a ton about flirting with guys, or dealing with the warm and fuzzies, but Dean Winchester  _ knew _ food, “What’s, uh, in the rest of the stuff?”

Dmirti beamed, “Well,  _ rasstegai _ are these little savory pastries,” he held up his hands to mime something the size of a dinner roll, “that’re filled with salmon, onions, and butter.  _ Sushki  _ look like big pretzel rings but are actually a sweet dough.  _ Pelmeni s gribami  _ are dumplings filled with mushrooms and sauteed onions. We also sprinkle cheese on ‘em. And, apricot  _ pirog _ \--and ‘ _ pirog _ ’ basically means pie--”

“Say no more,” Dean’s mouth watered, he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was but now his stomach was making ungodly noises and Dean wanted all of that in his belly yesterday, “I might cream my jeans if you describe Russian pie to me, man,” Dean laughed.

Dmitri arched an brow at that, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Dean felt heat rush back into his face and now his stomach wasn’t the only part of his body cryin’ out to be filled.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Dmitri’s voice made Dean’s skin prickle.

“Nuh-uh,” Dean replied, always the intellect.

“I’ll go get that cooking,” Dmitri shuffled a stack of red and white plastic order number cards, handing one to the hunter, “Alright Dean, looks you’re order sixty-nine. I’ll have that out shortly,” Dmirtri left with a wink before words could even rise to the surface of Dean’s cotton-candy-encased brain.

“O-Okay--pardner!” he said to the now-empty counter.

***

As the minutes ticked by Dean took to pacing the main area by the counter. Dmitri hadn’t poked his head out in nearly ten minutes and it felt like the longest goddamn  _ year _ of Dean’s life. Okay, maybe that was a stretch but  _ still _ . The longer he had to just stand out here and replay the weirdest whatever-the-hell-that-was, the longer he had to dissect it. Playback of his dumbass words in his stupid voice with that prepubescent blush ricocheted in his head. This was a disaster. He’d lost any semblance of confidence as soon as Dmitri had given him a half a glance.  _ What the fuck was that?!  _ Chances like this--to openly flirt with a sexy gem like Dmitri who was also interested in Dean  _ and  _ just happened to share the face of the dude who Dean had thought about kissing more often than not for years--yeah, chances like this were once-in-a-blue-moon territory. Especially for someone with Winchester luck. And here Dean had gone and looked like a total nerd in front of Mr. Sex-On-Legs. Fuck Dean’s life.

“Dean?” 

Dean’s head shot up at that whiskey-smooth voice, his whole body somehow going rigid and mushy all at once.

“Yea?” Dean, ever the linguist, replied. Dmitri flashed the hunter that gummy grin and held up two waxed-cardboard boxes with a neatly folded white paper bag on top. This dude had no right looking so goddamn adorable when he was probably older than Dean, “Heh, uh, yeah, yup.”

Dmitri rang up the order, bright baby blues rarely leaving Dean. Panic started to bubble in the hunter’s stomach. It was almost time to leave and, shit, was Dean gonna just leave it like this? Just walk away from a one-in-a-million chance like this? What did he even want to do? This wasn’t Cas, no matter how much he looked like him...but  _ still _ . 

He zoned out staring at Dmitri’s olive hands and long, gorgeous fingers and had to ask the other man to repeat the total again. He knew the blush that stained his cheeks probably wouldn’t go away until he’d finished kicking himself on the drive back to the motel. This was ridicu--

“...and here’s your change,” Dmitri said with a wry smile and instinctively reached out for those slender fingers to drop whatever the hell the change was into his palm (he’d kinda let his mind wander for that part too). There weren’t any bills, only coins, and Dmitri let his fingers brush Dean’s palm in a way that was definitely above-and-beyond their customer/employee setting. The man’s ring gleamed again in the light and Dean would blame his lack of focus on something shiny catching his eye ‘til the day he died, “Well?”

Dean’s eyes snapped up from Dmitri’s slowly retreating hand and he felt like a deer caught in the headlights. That was, if the headlights were the prettiest blue eyes Dean had stared into a million times and the deer was a middle-aged man who’s brain was on the brink of implosion.

“We--? ‘M sorry, wha?” 

Dmitri’s sunshiney smile grew as he looked Dean up and down once again. He leaned conspiratorially closer to Dean and Dean’s heartbeat kicked up at each inch that disappeared between them.

“You’re cute, g-man,” Dmitri rumbled and Dean bit back a squeak, “I said: Aren’t you gonna ask me for my number?”

Dean Winchester fucking  _ giggled _ and he just hoped to Chuck that neither Sam nor Jack came looking for him right this second.

“I--Yeah, I mean of course!” His hands surged up to pat down his pockets as it slowly dawned on him that they hadn’t checked into the hotel yet so he hadn’t stolen one of the handy-dandy little note pads they sometimes had--so that was a big, fat ‘no’ on finding a scrap of paper. Worse yet, now that he thought about it, he’d circled something on a map they picked up in Pennsylvania so the pen he usually kept in his jacket had probably gotten tossed in the glove box--

“Hey,” Dmitri’s smile had softened at the hunter’s flustered state. One of Dmitri’s warm, solid, absolutely  _ delicious _ hands rested gently on Dean’s covered forearm, “Relax, big guy. I’m just teasing--I wrote my number on the bag.”

Dean didn’t dare move the arm that buzzed with Dmitri’s touch and instead turned the white paper bag to reveal the eight digits scrawled in Sharpie. Jesus, even this dude’s  _ handwriting _ kinda looked like Cas’s. Dean didn’t even try to tamp down the grin that took over his face.

“Thanks...Dmitri…” Dean said, and yeah, maybe his voice was a little more breathy than usual--sue ‘im.

“Good luck with your case, Dean,” Dmitri smiled, giving Dean’s arm a cozy little squeeze before releasing.

“Hey, yeah, you too--”  _ Fuck _ ! Dean grabbed up the food, backing away, “I mean, good luck, uh, with the food,”  _ Just close your goddamn mouth already _ , “shit, um...as you were…”

His elbow knocked into the pillar as he stepped back a few more feet and he took that as a sign that it was time to just get the hell out of Dodge.

“Hopefully I’ll see you around,” Dmitri smirked and leaned over the counter--surely to watch the trainwreck that Dean knew he was--as he clumsily backed toward the door.

“Yeah, yes--That you will!” Dean said  _ way _ too loudly to be considered socially acceptable.

“Good night, Dean.”

“‘N-Night, Cas!”

As soon as the frosted glass clinked closed behind him, Dean wanted to just walk into the oncoming traffic and put himself out of his misery.  _ You called him ‘Cas’?! _

Dean spotted the Impala only a few cars down from the entrance. He cradled the bags closer to his chest, mouth nearly dripping at the blissful scent. He couldn’t help it. As he passed the picture window that looked in at the order counter and some of the booths, Dean looked up. Dmitri already held his gaze, beaming that same adorable, sexy, and familiar smile at the hunter. The stunning brunette winked at him and, yeah, Dean was  _ definitely _ gonna call him. And Cas, he was  _ definitely _ gonna call Cas too. Maybe, if he gave it his all, he could even make Cas flash him that addicting grin that he now knew the angel was capable of. Yeah, that had just been bumped up on his to-do list. Dean took another deep inhale of steam rising up to him. 

God bless Mother Russia, and God bless the Novak gene pool.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood ;) Also, I have played around with the idea of adding to this story but don't have anything in the works. Let me know if a continuation would be of any interest to y'all!!


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